


it is not necessary to be drunk in order to be immortal

by milleniumfxlcon



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:34:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25896004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milleniumfxlcon/pseuds/milleniumfxlcon
Summary: "Why do you let him?" Death glanced at Grantaire in amusement."Because I love him." Grantaire whispered. "Better to be a scorned lover than nothing at all. At least when he says those things, he looks at me."
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	it is not necessary to be drunk in order to be immortal

Grantaire had seen Death longer than Enjolras did. Ever since he had picked up the first bottle of absinthe, the stranger with the pale hair and piercing blue eyes had been watching him. He looked like an older, terrible version of Enjolras, but yet there was something else about the stranger. The stranger's movements were  _ predatory _ , circling him amusedly. Daring him to drink down one more bottle. Beckoning him to take one step over the edge. He soon realised that the handsome stranger was Death itself. Grantaire always stopped before that happened. 

Enjolras appeared different to him when he was drunk. His golden hair seemed to  shine in the too-bright lights of the café. The marble became clay. Apollo looked less like a god and more like a human whenever R saw him in his drunken stupor. It was during those moments, when Enjolras spared a glance for him, only to turn away a second later, that Grantaire thought he might actually stand a chance with him.

Sometimes, Death watched Enjolras. And then, he turned to Grantaire and said, " _He does not see you the way you see him._ " Grantaire knew this to be true. He had always known. They had danced, just once, after Death had took pity on Grantaire. Always waiting, never chosen. Tolerated, for his good humor. Death made him feel important. Death was the only one who had never turned Grantaire away. But even so, R loved his Apollo more than Death. It didn't matter how much Enjolras was repulsed by him. All Grantaire wanted was to see him.

Enjolras was speaking. Grantaire hung on to every word. 

“At the Barrière du Maine there are marble-workers, painters, and journeymen in the studios of sculptors. They are an enthusiastic family, but liable to cool off."

_ How ironic. _

“I don't know what has been the matter with them for some time past. They are thinking of something else. They are becoming extinguished. They pass their time playing dominoes. There is urgent need that some one should go and talk with them a little, but with firmness. They meet at Richefeu's. They are to be “found there between twelve and one o'clock. Those ashes must be fanned into a glow. For that errand I had counted on that abstracted Marius, who is a good fellow on the whole, but he no longer comes to us. I need someone for the Barrière du Maine. I have no one.”

On that count, Enjolras was wrong. He had Grantaire. The skeptic, who was in part, a believer. This was his chance to prove he was more. R would not fail.

“What about me?" said Grantaire. "Here am I.”

"You?" Enjolras' marble veil lifted, just for a moment. 

Grantaire could make out his surprise.

"I." he proclaimed.

“You indoctrinate republicans! you warm up hearts that have grown cold in the name of principle!” Enjolras snapped. The marble veil tumbled back into place. 

And there it was. That cold, harsh, burden he bore. Enjolras had never actually gotten angry at anyone else in the ABC. His anger, it seemed, was reserved for Grantaire. But / _ why _ /? 

Death laughed. 

"Why do you let him?" Death glanced at Grantaire in amusement. 

"Because I love him." Grantaire whispered. "Better to be a scorned lover than nothing at all. At least when he says those things, he looks at me."

He wasn't so sure Death understood, anyway. How could an immortal being rationalize something so human? It required too much effort to philosophize that which was a simple truth.

“You would do all this, for a boy who barely sees you?" Death inquired.

"I would destroy myself a hundred times for him." Grantaire grinned, the twinkle in his eyes brilliant as the sun itself. "I would die for him."

Back to the conversation at hand.

“Why not?" He rested his hand on his chin, looking up at Enjolras.

"Are you good for anything?" Enjolras quipped.

It was customary for Grantaire to use humor to mask his true feelings. 

"I have a vague ambition in that direction," said Grantaire.

"You do not believe in everything." Enjolras replied coldly.

"I believe in you." 

Grantaire defended himself for Enjolras. He would allow the other man to think many things, but not this. He believed in him as much as Apollo believed in Patria. If only, just  _ once _ , Enjolras could see that, he could die a satisfied man.

“Grantaire will you do me a service?" Enjolras glared at him.

"Anything. I'll black your boots.”

“Well, don't meddle with our affairs. Sleep yourself sober from your absinthe." Enjolras turned away at long last.

Grantaire wouldn't let him. He knew Apollo too well. He also knew that the best way to get his attention, was to insult him.

"You are an ingrate, Enjolras." Grantaire responded, expression ablaze. 

"You the man to go to the Barrière du Maine! You capable of it!” Enjolras shouted in disbelief.

Time for the big speech. At least, he was sober this time.

“I am capable of descending the Rue de Grès, of crossing the Place Saint-Michel, of sloping through the Rue Monsieur-le-Prince, of taking the Rue de Vaugirard, of passing the Carmelites, of turning into the Rue d'Assas, of reaching the Rue du Cherche-Midi, of leaving behind me the Conseil de Guerre, of pacing the Rue des Vieilles-Tuileries, of striding across the boulevard, of following the Chaussée du Maine, of passing the barrier, and entering Richefeu's. I am capable of that. My shoes are capable of that.”

It was mostly to reassure himself. It was mostly to reassure himself. In truth, he wasn't even sure what he would say exactly to the Barrière du Maine. The conversation turned mundane. 

R had prepared for this moment.

“I will speak to them of Robespierre, pardi! Of Danton. Of principles." He smiled impishly.

"You?" Enjolras said for the second time in the day.

It was amusing how whenever Grantaire contradicted Enjolras' perception of him that the other man was at a loss for words. He reveled in it.

"I," Grantaire began, “But I don't receive justice. When I set about it, I am terrible. I have read Prudhomme, I know the Social Contract, I know my constitution of the year Two by heart. 'The liberty of one citizen ends where the liberty of another citizen begins.' Do you take me for a brute? I have an old bank-bill of the Republic in my drawer. The Rights of Man, the sovereignty of the people, sapristi! I am even a bit of a Hébertist. I can talk the most superb twaddle for six hours by the clock, watch in hand."

"Be serious," said Enjolras.

_ Be serious?  _ Grantaire wanted to laugh. Seriousness might have been Apollo's thing, but it wasn't his. He belonged to the humors.

"I am wild," replied Grantaire.

Enjolras meditated for a few moments, and made the gesture of a man who has taken a resolution.

"Grantaire," he said gravely, "I consent to try you. You shall go to the Barrière du Maine."

It was the closest Grantaire came to absolution. He took that as his cue to leave for home.

“No matter what you do, he will always be out of reach," Death taunted.

"Why are you still here? I'm not drinking myself to death at the current moment." He frowned, perplexed.

"Because you would follow your Apollo into demise," Death chuckled. "not absinthe. You stop for him. And as you said, you'd /die/ for him. It won't be long before we meet a final time."

Grantaire fumbled for his keys. Finally, he unlocked his door, stumbling into his apartment.

A minute had passed.

The Robespierre waistcoat he had ordered laid expectantly on the dresser. He held up the waistcoat up to the light, staring at it longingly. He imagined not Robespierre, but Enjolras. Beautiful, golden Apollo. Grantaire smiled as he slid into it.

Two minutes.

As an afterthought, he chucked the bottle of absinthe lying at the foot of his bed into the trash. It was a useless gesture; given that he'd be well into his eighth bottle later in the night. But it was a gesture of sincerity, nonetheless.

Three minutes.

He glanced at himself in the mirror. With his white undershirt and red waistcoat, he looked like he belonged with the ABC. Opening his drawer, R scrounged whatever loose change he could find, and shoved it into his pocket. The old bank-bill of the Republic lay in a clear case at the bottom of his drawer, displayed like an artifact. It reminded him of Apollo. As a final flourish, he added a hat. Satisfied, Grantaire left his house again, heading back to the Musain. 

Four minutes.

The walk back to the Musain only took a minute if he hurried. But Grantaire walked slower this time, with an air of importance. He would show Enjolras that he could do this.

Five minutes had passed before Grantaire pushed open the door to the Musain, and announced his arrival with a single word, meant for Enjolras.

“Red.”.

———

Sometimes, Enjolras wasn't quite convinced he was human. While the others laughed and cried, he was stoic. Focused, he reasoned, on the revolution. Not many people could understand Enjolras, but he could understand most people. Most people — except for the enigma that was Grantaire.

  
  


Grantaire was a skeptic. In Enjolras' mind, he couldn't be anything else but one. Everything was clear to him, but not R. It was a mystery that only got him more intrigued as Grantaire unravelled.

  
  


He wasn't even sure why R was at this serious meeting. But Enjolras had bigger problems at hand. Like the Barrière du Maine, which he had counted on Marius' return. He felt some measure of guilt for having scared the boy away.

“I need someone for the Barrière du Maine. I have no one.” Enjolras announced. 

“What about me?" said Grantaire. "Here am I.”

He could make out a strange person standing beside Grantaire, staring at him. The man was mature, with pale hair and hateful eyes. The sight troubled him. Enjolras turned away. 

"You?" 

It wasn't even meant for Grantaire. Enjolras was convinced he was /seeing/ things. Who was that? And why did he look so much like him?

“I'm Death, obviously." The man had left Grantaire's side. At least, he looked like a man to Enjolras. “Your friend's told me an awful lot about you. What do you say we dance?" 

The world seemed to stop around them. Death held out a hand. Enjolras took it. 

“You can have me,” Enjolras said gravely, “but not the ABC.”

"Is R a  _ friend _ , Apollo?" Death smiled cruelly.

Could he consider someone, who believed in nothing, a friend? Grantaire and Enjolras had never held a conversation as friends. Still, Grantaire was a member of the ABC, and by extension, his friend. Though, he would've liked to be anyone's friend more than R's.

“Yes." 

“Then why do you treat him like an adversary?" Death challenged. “Is getting the better of him more important than being a friend?”

“It's not about that at all!” Enjolras yelled. “We are not the same in many respects, and whenever I talk of politics, he doesn't join in. Whenever he talks of making merry, I can't laugh as easy as everyone else. But we are equals in an argument. That's as much common ground as we've ever had! If there wasn't this, then he wouldn't talk to me.”

“Have you considered that he would, if you forgave him for his absence of belief?" Death hummed.

“I already have. But he hasn't forgiven himself. R surrounds himself with humor and absinthe to mask his guilt. I've noticed. I don't know what, or why he feels guilty."

“You're awfully blind, dear Apollo." Death grinned before disappearing. 

Enjolras was left more perplexed by this. He had already made up his mind, even if he didn't seem like it. When it came down to it, R was a member of the ABC. His stern expression returned. 

Grantaire continued talking, even after Enjolras had said those hurtful words. It was like firing on a bulletproof shield. He pretended to deliberate before finally saying, with an air of seriousness, "Grantaire, I consent to try you. You shall go to the Barrière du Maine."

He hoped he wouldn't regret this. Wordlessly, R had left. Enjolras was left alone with his thoughts. Why had Grantaire chosen R? He knew it had some hidden meaning, but he couldn't figure out what. 

He made a mental list of all the words he could think of.

_ Revolution? No. Grantaire didn't believe in it. _

_ R — _

“Red," announced Grantaire conspiratorially as he entered five minutes later. R looked intently at Enjolras, almost as if he had guessed his question.

_ Oh. I'm a blind idiot _ , Enjolras thought, glancing down at his own red waistcoat. Grantaire wore a similar one, in the fashion of Robespierre.

When had R gone to tailor one like his? He certainly hadn't told Enjolras. Grantaire looked like a revolutionary in his red waistcoat.

When had R gone to tailor one like his? He certainly hadn't told Enjolras. Grantaire looked like strangely handsome in his red waistcoat. It felt like R had told him a secret, in his own unconscious way.

Enjolras watched as R laid the two scarlet points of the waistcoat across his chest. Something stirred inside that marble heart of his. It was a feeling he couldn't quite name. 

He wanted to say something, but suddenly R had stepped up to him, the other man's lips brushing against his ear.

"Be easy." Grantaire whispered softly. 

Before Enjolras could react, R had already jammed his hat on resolutely and walked out before he could get a word in. R was unpredictable, Enjolras was rigid. He was harsh where R was soft. They were opposites. Maybe, that was a good thing.

Death smiled at him. 

“You're preparing my way, little Icarus." he laughed. “You don't see it yet, but your soul, all their souls, belong to /me/. I wonder how far you'll get before you find that you're reaching the sun. There's no room for you to save anyone when you melt from your wings."

Enjolras shuddered.

“You're wrong!" He snarled. “I can save them. I can save France! I'll show you that you're wrong."

Arguing with an immortal being was the first bad idea Enjolras had in weeks. Of course Death knew the ending, but endings could be changed. He just had to be careful.

Death roughly took his hand. Around them, the Musain faded into the Corinthe. Enjolras knew the place. R had discovered it, after all. Sunlight streamed into the bistro, illuminating the rubble. Countless bodies lay in the streets.

_ Joly. Combeferre. Gavroche. Courfeyrac. Bahorel. Jehan. Jean-Prouvaire. Laigle.  _

  
  


This couldn't be right.

He couldn't see Grantaire's body. Enjolras assumed this meant R had kept to his word and sat out the fight. Death beckoned, disappearing into Corinthe. With a trembling breath, Enjolras followed.

He saw R first, slumped on the ground. He had taken a bullet. 

“You led him to his demise," Death hissed. "He died for /you/.”

Enjolras felt a chill creep up his spine. He saw himself next, legs wrapped around the window-ledge. His body fell forward at an awkward angle, so that he was upside-down. 

Even in his final repose, Enjolras clutched the tattered, worn, red flag, letting it dangle towards the street. He was smiling.

“Do you see now, foolish child, why you cannot win?" Death looked at him with a pitying smile. “You won't remember any of this. To anyone else, you're just asleep at a table. But know this — you and your Pylades died together."

With that having been said, Death stalked off. Enjolras was sleeping lightly on a table. He stirred, checking his watch. The others had left for their assignments. With a stretch, he gathered his things and left the Musain. It was time for the real work to begin.

**Author's Note:**

> hey! so this is my first les mis fic in a long time, and i'm really excited about it! leave a comment if you liked it, or if there's anything that I can do better!


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